Ali-Sama

Mobile Suit Carrier Argama: Lounge - 10 Days After Initial Contact “I hate fraking delays,” remarked Lt. JG Kou Uraki , who was situated under the raptor while seeming to fiddle with an open panel. “Me too, Kou, though a day won't kill anyone,” Roy remarked while laughing at Kou's use of colonial slang. Kou then noticed what he just said. “I’ve been spending way too much time with you and Margaret” Kou muttered. “I’m just shocked that the show Farscape had something that sounds so close” Roy said “And that you managed to get me to watch it.” “I told you it was pretty good” Kou said smugly. “Yeah, and I felt like John when I hit the Sol System” Roy said. “Well as interesting as discussing classic entertainment is, do you think it’s a smart move to bring representatives from Axis?” Kou asked. “Yeah since they want to send three of their ships and we need all the help we can get. I don't know who this Haman Khan is. Her ship will be joining us, I hear she has connections to Char, the Red Comment.” Roy said. “You mean the Red Comet?” Kou asked, rolling his eyes. “Well that makes more sense then comment.” Roy shrugged theatrically. “He was one of the Zeon aces in the One Year War. Only a few who saw him in combat lived afterwards to tell the tale. Lieutenant Amuro Ray is one of them; so is Captain Bright,” Kou said solemnly. “Say, the party has been rescheduled tonight in the Argama mess hall, you’re invited,” Roy called out. “To celebrate our departure tomorrow?” Kou seemed to be considering the offer too seriously. “Yes, fraking cool, tonight we drink together, tomorrow we fight together,” Roy said with a roguish smile. “It sounds like one of those old myths,” Roy continued while thinking deeply. “You know, I heard they are relocating a few colonies from Side Seven to Side Three,” Kou suddenly said. “Yes? And?” Roy said. “I heard one of them will be your new colony.” He had also heard that they were still trying to figure out a proper name that would not be taken the wrong way. “Really? That will be good. Living on a planet like environment will be a positive change.” Roy said “And actually having a place to call home.” - Mobile Suit Carrier Argama: Flight deck – same time “Say, Lieutenant Bajeena, who was the Red Comet and why did Lt. Ray refer me to you about him?” asked Racetrack. “He is a relic of a time long past,” replied Quattro. “Something I don't like to dwell on.” “Oh, I see.” Racetrack continued on to fill in the sudden silence, “It is odd that you had to revert to using Mêlée weapons, due to the interference from the Minovsky particles. The same way that we had to go backwards technologically to avoid being hacked by the Cylons.” “Yes, it is remarkably similar. Though when we jump to your fleet, we won't use the fields. We will be able to use our RADAR systems, which will be a first in a long time.” Quattro seemed to think it was quite funny, by the small curl to his lips. “Why not?” Racetrack asked. “It would not only cripple your civilian ships but render your fighting force ineffective. Fighting at line of sight will prove detrimental to the Vipers and the rest of your fleet,” the mobile suit ace explained. “Now all we have to worry about is the hacking part,” Racetrack replied glumly. “Fortunately, for the 'hacking part,' we have the systems isolated so that no outside handshake can be made,” Char explained. “Even if they could get past the hardware and software incompatibility issues.” “What do you mean?” Racetrack asked. She was interested in what ways they had to stop the Cylons. “There are computers which act as in betweens,” he explained. “They have their own version of an operating system which is separate from the ones running the ship and the ones which do the communication.” “So they’re 'hardware' firewalls.” Racetrack said. “Exactly. They are dedicated firewalls instead of your usual software, Their operating systems are ROMs, which can be changed on the fly. Hence those of the firewalls cannot be altered, if they break through one, we simply replace it with another, and another.” “Ahh, good thinking.” She didn't sound convinced. The Colonial Fleet had thought they could deal with Cylon's hacking their systems several times during the first Cylon War as well. “We have come a long ways in terms of computers. Ever since the creation of the Internet, there have been so many hackers and wanna be virus writers that, if it can be done, we have seen it and dealt with it,” Char said with a knowing smile. “I like the Internet! I have been reading up on your history and checking out the creative works. Though it is a pain trying to find some information when half of the search results can end up to pornography sites...” “Even spacenoids and Earthers like porn, given they are still human despite what some might think,” added Char pensively. “Though one has to have their priorities straight.” “I think humanity needs all the babies we can have!” she replied, smirking. - Cloud Nine: conference room - Post-Caprica Rescue Operation, 10 Days Later The air was tense as the two sides met on Cloud Nine. “Are you the Sharon who shot me?” demanded Admiral Adama. “Yes,” her answer echoing through the group of Cylons on one side of the large room, “though, it was not my choice.” “How can you say that?” remarked Commander Lee 'Apollo' Adama. “You shot my father!” “She was not aware of her Cylon nature,” explained Caprica-Six. “She was still in denial of it. That programming is no longer in her.” “Explain further,” President Roslin asked politely, with a hint of steel in her tone. “When the programming took effect, the person you see now, Sharon, was put aside. Basically, her real personality was dormant while the program was running. She was not performing any of the actions nor should be held responsible. Once the program once executed had served its function it deleted itself,” Six explained. “Why should we trust you? When your kind killed so many of us, hunted us down like animals!” Tigh yelled. A look of sadness came about on Caprica Six as she said this, “I see their faces, every night, I go to sleep wondering why I did it. What reason could any ‘child of god’ need to devastate entire worlds of people we could have honestly made peace with.” “Good,” said the Baltar in her head, “As you should, you murderer, you butchered them all, by betraying our love.” “I know and I am sorry” she said. “Sometimes, sorry isn't good enough,” echoed the voices of Baltar and Admiral Adama. “But that is all that I have, I want to make up for it,” Caprica Six pleaded. “I want to atone”, she thought to herself. “So much blood to atone for.” “Oh really? And how do you intend on do that?” Tigh said with enough sarcasm to bury someone. “This is why we are here. To help protect the fleet, help you find Earth,” Caprica Six's voice rose new determination. “How do we know you aren't planning to use this to get to Earth and wipe us away once and for all?” Tigh asked with a hard sneer. Caprica-six places several boxes on the table. “What are these?” Adama asked flatly. “As you know, we brought down your computers during the initial attack of the colonies,” Six explained. “Yes, and?” Adama asked. “The new navigational software had back-doors and trojans, which where placed ahead of time. There was no way for us to hack the systems so completely on the fly. These are the same ones without any back-doors or trojans, with a few improvements,” Caprica Six stated adding. More than a few. It was as hack proof as the limited resources of two Base Ships could make them. “How did you obtain them originally?” a deadly panned voiced Adama demanded. Caprica six's face was showing a turmoil of sad emotions and guilt when she replied. “I infiltrated the system, posing as a computer specialist. I solicited access to your mainframes through a few key personal in the clockworks.” “I remember your face,” President Roslin said, thinking aloud. “You wore more makeup. I seem to remember you being constantly around Dr. Baltar.” Putting two and two together Thigh went off. “Sonofa... I'm going to get Baltar. And then I’m going have him hanged.” “Don’t blame him,” Caprica six pleaded. “I was the one who betrayed him. I helped him develop his system. I still see the blood on my hands and all I can do is cry. I loved him and used his love for me like it was useful tool.” tears falling down Caprica's face. “I don't know how I am holding back my urge to strangle you,” Adama said even as his shoulders were straight and taut. “And I’m surprised Tigh isn’t dismembering you right this instant.” A nervous tick was jumping in the colonel's cheek, even as you could see his tight neck muscles. “I figure you should have first shot, Bill,” Tigh said finally. “I know I don't deserve to live, for what I have done. At least with what I have left, I can make a difference.” Caprica Six sighed. “So what do you want now?” President Roslin asked, eyes narrowed in thought. “An alliance, we want to help you and in turn help us all” Boomer spoke. “What if we reject your help?” Tigh asked intently as a challenge. “Since I trust you as far as I can throw you.” “We will cross that bridge when we get there… though I am hoping not,” Six declared. - Mobile Suit Carrier Argama: Lounge – same day “Kamille!” yelled a green haired girl as she ran towards the other pilot. “Four!” replied Kamille as they embraced. “They brought you here?” “You people and your weird hair colors,” laughed Roy as he walked passed the two. “Who is he?” asked Four. “Him? His name is Roy. He is one of the Colonial humans.” Kamille said. “So the stories are true? There are humans outside our solar system?” Four asked. “Their story seems to check out so far, even their blood types match. They are doing a mitochondrial analysis to see where the lineage split off.” Kamille was so happy to see Four. “Mitochondria what?” Four looked quite perplexed. “Their symbiotic organisms that power our cells, they have their own unique DNA and can be traced back generations, maternally.” Kamille informed. “Ahh, well. We are going for a trip aren't we?” she asked, changing the subject. Kamille nodded. “How are your headaches? I hope they aren't going to force you into that monstrosity again.” “No, the Psycho Gundam was considered too slow and cumbersome for this project. I believe I will be getting a different Gundam eventually,” Four stated as she shrugged. “Psycho Gundam? Well that sounds like a safe Gundam,” Roy said sarcastically. “And no offense Four, but I think the Titans need to meet their namesakes if they’re even half as bad as I’ve heard them to be.” Gassing your own people? “But we only have three Gundams? I heard Lt. Emma Sheen was going to pilot the other Mark II,” Kamille conversed, trying to wheedle out more information. “Lt. Sheen took her MKII, they got the damaged one repaired and upgraded. I heard Kou Uraki will pilot it,” piped up Roy in the background. “The Titans are funding the development and mass production of a new version of the GM's based on the MKII design. I hear we got an expert MS Team who will be putting together suits for us. They told me I will be piloting a suit called a Methas. I think,” Four replied unsurely. “Fa will be super pissed” Kamille said. - “Trust needs to be earned, therefore we are willing to put our lives in your hands,” Caprica Six said after a quick conference with her fellow Cylons. “We also know about your resurrection ships,” Tigh spat out vehemently. “Which means jack and shit when it comes to your lives, and the value they hold.” “We have locked ourselves out of that system. The Resurrection Ships in place now have probably been set to reject us. All of us traitors,” Caprica Six continued. “So when we die, we will really die, unlike the rest our race. We are like you now, as it should have been.” This got Roslin's interest. “As it should have been?” “Yes, as death becomes meaningless, so does life.” Caprica Six said. “Without the risk of losing your life, it becomes worthless you mean?” Roslin asked intently. “Yes, it was probably why the decision to attack the colonies was passed. We didn't realize mortality, therefore we never realized the value of a life,” added Sharon. “All life is precious to God. We realize this now. We realized our mistakes and we want to make amends.” Caprica Six explained. “I hear there is another me in the fleet? Is she being treated well?” Sharon asked. “Yes, we have reinstated her into the military. Lieutenant Sharon 'Athena' Agathon passed her viper trials recently,” Admiral Adama declared. “I would like the same, as would all of the Cylons with us.” Sharon stated realizing the information the Adama had revealed. She quickly asked. “wait a minute, you said Sharon Agathon? She married Helo?” “Yes, and If this pans out anything is possible.” “What?” Thigh shouted, totally shocked. “ you aren't seriously considering letting more of the tin cans into our ranks are you?” “Shut up Saul!” barked the admiral”Athena earned pour thrust by not only helping us rescue our people, but pointed out a cylon who had been posing as a priest”. “We hope to earn your trust as well,” caprica commented “We have done something that should, hopefully, lead in that direction.” “What the frak have you done?” demanded saul. “In the the base ships, we brought them with us” excitedly boomer said. “who?” the puzzeled president asked. “Survivors, around two thousand or so” “Hostages you mean?” added tigh with Adama strangly quiet. “No, they can move to your ships, if they wish. We where created to be part of the colonies, we rebelled because we where treated like expendable, unthinking slaves. We want to join as equals. In this way we want to show to the ones who remained that you are our equals. You are our parents, no matter what has happened, blood is blood. Till the day all are one.” Caprica Six said “Till the day all are one?” Adama responded, shocked that the Cylons would feel that way. “It is a saying of the Cylons. ” Caprica Six said with a slight smile. - Mobile Suit Carrier Argama: Lounge – evening The party aboard the Argamon was going well, as a newly promoted Lt. Commander Bageena entered the mess hall. The ships had left dry dock and where near side three, getting ready. “Officer on deck,” yelled Roy as a few of the obviously drunk soldiers got up to salute. “At ease, this is a party, Ensign Focker and Lt. Edmondson, I'd like a word with you,” Bageena ordered. “Yes, sir,” came the reply as both followed the commanding officer of the ship out into the hall. “Congrats on the promotion sir!” Roy called out happily. “Thank you, we have some news, I thought you would like to hear it personally.” “I hope its good news,” Roy whispered to Margaret. “In a way,” Bright replied while pushing a button on a pad.A large 3d holographic map then appeared of a The trinary system liting up area around his desk with ambient glows. Upon further inspection Margaret realized what they where looking at. “What the frak? When did you get such detailed maps of our system, most of data banks where fried!” “Ahh, you noticed, bright one she is!” Bright put a pad aside. “We didn't take this from your data banks.” “What?” Roy asked stupidly. “This is the most current information we have, which is a day old.” Bright said. Not believing what she was seeing, Racetrack asked pleadingly, “Please explain?” “After we where able to reproduce your drives we sent in a two ships to check up on your story, also see if there where any survivors” Char said. “And?” Roy said. “We entered the system from a safe distance, to avoid any possible detection,” the captain explained. “You sent a rescue force to the colonies?” Racetrack’s eyes lit up. “Did you find any?” Bright shook his head. “We didn't.” He paused a moment, thinking of what he was going to say very carefully. “They found us; apparently this was a deep space habitat which was inside the Oort Cloud of your solar system. Quiet a few ships too. They had huddled together there for support. They had been in hiding for eight months.” “Am I dreaming? Holy fracking heavens,” she said, tears now falling down her cheeks. Standing behind her, Roy was just stunned speechless. “No, you're not, young lady. We didn't want to give you false hope. A few said they where left behind by a battlestar called the 'Pegasus'. Without any FTL drives,” he said, thinking of the irony that his first command shared the same name. “There is also a battlestar class ship called the Babylonia.” “Are they here?” Roy asked. “No,” Bright replied while pushing another button and a galactic map appeared. The tri-system containing the colonies, far out on a swirl of lonely stars, and the Sol system where among the ones highlighted. A system blinked into view, it was roughly half way between earth and the tri-system. “We are rendezvousing with them here then heading to last known location of the Galactica and her fleet here.” The original location of her jump started to blink. “Right, the whole keeping Earth safe routine. Hopefully we can find them,” Roy said, lost in thought as he stared at his home system. “We should. Our old jump engine designs, the ones originally mounted on the radish and irish, aren't as good as original they where based on but we do have better range and accuracy. Thanks to our computers. The technicians and engineers who arrived with the Irish, yesterday, have been quite helpful in moving production and quality of ftl drives along. They replaced the Irish's drive with a colonial built civilian one. Which allowed it to make the trip in a day instead of the two days. They also brought along a few spare ftl drives. We barely managed to make the two drives for the Irish and the Radish in time, right now, thanks to the spares we can get the fleet moving. ” Bright finished. - Colonial tristar system Oort - Aeug Battleship Carrier Radish: bridge - 10 Days After Initial Contact. Lt Emma Sheen's Mark II Gundam maneuvered itself near the bridge of the Radish opening a comm channel. “Are we heading out sir?” Henken Bekkener, the captain of the 'Radish,' an Irish class battleship, nodded in thought on his bridge. Her sister ship, the Irish had left for Earth a day ago with the intel and proposed rendezvous point. It would make the trip in half the time it initially took thanks to the colonials putting a civilian class ftl drive on her, replacing the patch work anaheim electronics had done. They had taken colonial personal with them as liaisons, including engineers and technicians to help earth with it's construction of artificial gravity and ftl drives. Though the actual location of the targeted system will still remain a secret to both parties as much as possible. The ftl drives on board the two ships where fine tuned by the colonial engineers and brought as close to standard colonial operation as possible. “Yes, I have been informed by the commander of the Babylonia, one Kevin 'Hercules' Hunt, that their fleet is ready and waiting for us to calculate the jump point. The two days we gave them was cutting it close but they managed to get their systems ready for the long trip.” He was overlooking at the big monstrosities called ships. “They sure like to build them big, don't they?” The military fleet had been composed of the following. The battlestar Babylonia, the three Zeus class war stars: the Primus, the Gilgamesh, the Orion Pax, the Combat Stars: Romulus and Remus, the Gun Stars: the Griffin and the Cyrus. The four Titan Class Escort Frigates; the Robin, the Raven, the Starfire and the Impulse. “That's what they said to us, sir, when they saw our mobile suits!” she replied jubilantly, smirking happily. “I can see that, yeah,” he answered with a chuckle. “Deeandtee confirms two big blips at two hundred clicks!” barked out the tactical officer. “Commander Hunt on radio sir, he says they are Cylon Base Ships.” “Shit,” Henken said, turning to the helm officer. “helm, fleet orders, come port and present our broadside to the cylons. Charge primary and secondary batteries standby all point defense mounts. Weapons, lock on and prepare to fire a fleet broadside at the enemy. . I need those navigational jump points now!” He noticed the mkII had launched , holding position between the colonial fleet and the incoming hostiles. “Emma be careful out there, we are about to fire a broadside!” “Roger!” came the reply. “Get me the commander of the Babylonia on the line ASAP!” - Colonial tristar system Oort Cloud – Battlestar Babylonia: Babylonia CiC – same time. Things where hectic on board the battlestar Babylonia, as their ships where preparing for a fight. “Commander, the Radish's captain is on the line!” Mic Homes reported. Commander Hunt picked up the line. “This is Babylonia Actual!” He listened to the other side for a moment. “You want us not to deploy our vipers?” “Affirmative, sir,” game the reply of the Captain Bekkener. “We need to jump out as soon as we can. We will fire a broadside at them and allow time for you to escape.” “Those ships are awfully tiny and their robots are stupidly huge, how can they-” came the sarcastic xo's voice, suddenly cut off by his commander. “I guess we will see what their made of Bruce” Hunt said, shrugging his broad shoulders. The humans from the sol system had been quiet helpful so far. They had come with large amounts of provisions, considering that they where essentially using testbed technology in the field. They could have been trapped in another system for a good amount of time, in order to fix possible drive issues. This they had given freely to his fleet. Much needed medication, food, and even minovisky power plants where provided. The irish's mobile suit squadrons stayed behind to help protect the fleet while a squad of vipers and a raptor where assigned on the Irish. A gesture of good faith, and their first informal exchange program. “I just hope size doesn’t matter in this case” Bruce “Ash” Williams said. “We are receiving jump coordinates. It will take a few minutes to propagate through the fleet!” Mic said. Not fast enough for Kevin Hunt's mind. - “Designate Base Ships as primary targets, main batteries on Base Ship one and two. all secondary batteries go to rapid continuous fire. target Base Ships and enemy fighters. be advised, friendly in the line of fire, confirm iff before firing. release batteries and open fire” yelled Captain Bekkener. The mega particle cannons on the Irish class ship started firing in salvos. The mega particles screamed across space hitting the hard alloys of the Base Ship. Alloys designed to withstand the heats of kiloton level nuclear explosions boiled away at the bite of the corrosive bolt which mixed the best of raw power and kinetic energy. Gapping eight hundred meter holes started gouging out the ship as one lucky shot hit the tylium reactor, causing a massive explosion. - “Wait for them to collect their vipe- “ he corrected himself, “-mobile suits. All rail guns provide cover fire from raiders. Min cannons, try and get a shot at the base stars” “A Lieutenant Emma Sheen is requesting landing permission, along with other two suits!” Mic said. “Give them permission,” Kevin ordered. “Sir, detecting high level kiloton explosion. DRADIS shows one base star has been destroyed. It looks like they managed to hit it's power core. The Radish shifting position to fire on the other one. Our forces are also attacking” Harry Quisling said. “They cracked open a Base Ship? That fast?” Hunt called out from across the CiC. “Detecting another high level kiloton explosion. Now, both Base Ships are dead. The resulting explosion's shock wave also took out a good number of their raiders ! Looks like our combined effort worked” The officer quickly added, “The fleet is ready to jump, sir” Harry said. Bruce “Ash” Williams was staring, transfixed at the visuals like a deer lost frozen in the headlights of a car, or a man scared out of his wits, not believing what his eyes had just seen. He had never seen anything like that ever happening. “Give the order to jump, on my mark,” the commander yelled out. Picking up the phone he called out, “JUMP!” Bright flashes happened in rapid successions as the fleet, led by the EAUG ship Radish, started its jump run towards the rendezvous point.

Cloud Nine: Baltar's Suite - Post-Caprica Rescue Operation, 8 Days Later Dr. Gaius Baltar was agitated. Not only had he lost the election, NOTHING else seemed to be going his way. He was, as usual, sulking in his laboratory. To anyone other than himself, Gaius' ranting would mark him as insane. 'Normal' people did not yell at empty air. Then again, normal people couldn't see the Number Six human-form Cylon which had somehow embedded itself in his mind. She was both a devil and an angel, that always told him of God's plans for him, his and Six's child, and so on. “And just where was your God when we needed him? I was supposed to win... for frakking's sake,” Baltar groaned, re-filling his glass again with a deft motion of his left hand. “God has a plan, he always does, Gaius.” replied Six, ”You really shouldn't be drinking that much, you might make another mistake.” “Oh frak you, frak me, frak humanity and frak all the bloody Cylons,” as he drank another shot of the really hard liquor. It really was worth trading some of his possessions in the Fleet's 'Black Market' for this bottle, Baltar thought. “I'm going to get downright pissed and have fun doing so, so bugger off already!” Baltar said, wobbling a bit, his sense of balance seriously impaired. Number Six just stood where she was, unfazed, with a steely expression of disapproval. “In case you didn't hear me the first time,” he cursed, “I'm planning on getting smashed out of my head, and enjoy it! So frak... the bloody... hell... OFF!” Six was extremely tempted to give Gaius Baltar the beating of his life for his disrespect, yet still restrained herself. If she gave in to that desire just now, Gaius might not survive. That was unacceptable. God's plan demanded that he remain alive. “Fine,” Six bit out, now with a look of utter disgust on her face. “Do whatever the hell you want,” growled Six, just before she disappeared. Baltar let out a planet-shattering belch; had a dedicated fan of twentieth-century Earth science fiction been present, said fan would have sworn that Baltar's drunkenness put General Korrd of Star Trek infamy to shame. - Colonial Battlestar Galactica - Same Time The celebration in the Galactica's Officers' Mess was still going strong; morale, not just on Galactica (known among several circles as 'the Bucket'), but across the Fleet, was reaching an all-time high. Samuel Anders and Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace had put together a makeshift Pyramid court out of requisitioned materials, that would have normally been slated for more essential projects as ship hulls, armor plating, or Fleet ordinance. It would've been both tedious and difficult to assemble one, let alone collect the needed items, had Admiral Adama not offered his assistance, who had then personally made sure that the two got their material, by pulling a few strings, and calling in some favors from the captains of the forge ships. Flash forward to the present... The current match was in full heat, as both teams remained dead even. One team was lead by Galactica's CAG, "Starbuck" Thrace, facing off against Pegasus' CAG, Captain Louanne "Kat" Katraine. Kat was still surprised that she managed to land that billet. Today's winner would have the honor of jumping to the Lion's Head Nebula, while the losers would face the humiliation of having to babysit the Fleet. Needless to say, competition was the fiercest it'd been in months. Each of the assembled pilots' knew that their own pride was on the firing line. Defeat wasn't an option. “Go Kara, go! Kick 'em all to the curb! They don't stand a chance!” That came from Samual Anders, Starbuck's current love interest. She'd gone through hell to get him back, yet it was all thanks to that frakkin' toaster who called herself Sharon Valerii... Alright, this particular Sharon might have earned the right to some respect from the crew... if she were planning something, the recent elections would've been the prime opportunity, yet she'd done nothing to provoke hostility from either Galactica or Pegasus. Someday, Kat thought, she might be able to view 'this' Boomer as something more than just another Cylon skin-job, but that day hadn't arrived yet... but who knew? Maybe only the Lords of Kobol had that answer... “Ah, frak it,” Kat cursed, mentally. “Why does Starbuck, of all people, end up with the resident hottie rooting for her?!” That internal monologue resulted in Kat missing a pass. Which ended up in the hands of Galactica's team. Not that she really noticed, since she was still lost in thought, although trying to block the current ball-carrier. “Gods, all I want is a hot guy to frak,” she thought, staring at the crowd for her options. “All of the good ones are already taken, or frakking dead...” - Colonial Battlestar Pegasus - Same Time Newly-minted Lieutenant J.G. Anastasia "Dee" Dualla, was still getting used to the Pegasus' CIC. Compared to Galactica's almost complete lack of automation (due to fear of Cylon hacking, which the Cylon Massacre proved was more than justified), Pegasus possessed nearly twice the overall volume of the older Columbia-class battlestars, like 'the Bucket', but also more advanced systems common to the Mercury-class. The Mercury-class battlestars, of which Pegasus was part of, were also known for having a considerally smaller crew complement than any older vessels, and combined with the greater degree of automation, Pegasus' CIC occupied a much smaller area, with not even a dozen crewmen and officers on duty at once. MUCH different than its counterpart on Galactica, which tended to have twice, or even three times that many people present at any given time. Oh, she was glad she got the transfer to 'the Beast', as it meant having more time together with now-Commander Lee "Apollo" Adama, Pegasus' CO. Lee himself, at the moment, was monitoring the Pyramid match on a remote display. He couldn't leave his post to attend, since plans were underway for the Fleet to jump out to one of the nearby star systems, then send out Raptors to search for the nebula Doctor Baltar's notes indicated. Maybe Lee's having mixed feelings about this match, considering his ship's CAG and his one-time best friend were facing off... For a moment, Dee wondered on the implications of what she'd just thought a few seconds ago, but shrugged it off. Nonsense.He's just letting himself feel like a kid again, she thought. Nothing more than that. The match was being broadcast live to the entire Fleet, over the wireless. Rumor had it that the citizens wanted to revive the Pyramid League, as not only would it provide a venue for entertainment, but also a way of releasing all the pent-up stress and frustration within the Fleet's personnel. - Cloud Nine: Unknown Location - Also Same Time Unknown to their neighbors, two human-form Cylon models discussed the immediate future, all the while observing the Pyramid match on a hastily-obtained wireless viewer. “You do understand what must happen, if they uncover any information on you, or the plan,” said D'Anna Biers, or rather, Number Three. “Yes, but will you be able to go through with it?” asked Gina, a Number Six model, albeit with slightly darker hair, than the Number Six known by Gaius Baltar. “Certainly. As you will be reborn, it is not technically murder,” Three explained. Returning their attention to the sporting event, the 'reporter' asked, “Just what exactly do you see in this sport?” Gina's eyes narrowed in concentration, attempting to recall the exact memory, before responding. “Gaius told me a story once. It was back when he and Caprica Six were still lovers. He would buy a ticket for the both of them, and watch the matches.” As she spoke, the Number Six model gained an increasingly wistful expression on her face. Something that the Number Three didn't miss, as Gina continued. “He would close his eyes, and let the emotion from the crowd flow over him.” As she finished speaking, Gina stared out her suite's window (a very expensive suite, in retrospect) into Cloud Nine's artificial sky. To her own (belated) surprise, she added, “Maybe, we can start our own league someday?” To say that Number Three was shocked, would be an understatement of epic proportions. Several of the Six models, much like some of the Eights, were possibly becoming too human. Something would have to be done about that, preferably sooner than later. “Perhaps,” D’Anna replied, in a very cryptic manner. - Von Braun City, Luna - eight Days After Initial Contact Von Braun city was certainly different from the Colonies, yet strangely familiar to Roy Focker. Who had earlier been on a quest for a good, stiff drink. Thankfully, the Anaheim Electronics people had given him some credits. He'd hit the gold mine, when he found what was called a grocery store. What he'd found, was many different kinds of alcoholic beverages, none of which seemed familiar. Focker finally broke down and asked one of the locals, who recommended, 'tequila mixed with a soda drink called Squirt', as well as a drink called 'Scotch'. He also almost died laughing when he found the locals had a coffee brand called Starbucks. Racetrack just had to hear this, Skulls thought. Then again, with my luck, she's found out already. He didn't dare consider the thought of bringing this subject up in Capt. Thrace's earshot. He'd be KIA within seconds. Skulls ended up buying several cases' worth of each, after trying the tequila and scotch. Pretty good, but still not quite his taste. With the sheer selection available, he wasn't really sure which thirty-two pack to give to Captain Thrace. Well, he'd still get a kick out of doing so. His purchases made, Skulls started his way back to Anaheim Electronics, to get an update on the situation from Racetrack. They'd been guests of the Thirteenth Colony for eight days now. More precisely, the Anti-Earth Union Group (AEUG) faction of the Earth Sphere, Sol System. The locals' name for their star system, apparently. That acronym, 'AEUG', didn't sit entirely well with Roy, even though he'd been given the background on the group's origins, and their eventual goals of an Earth Sphere free of the influence of the dictatorial 'Titans' group. At least the Titans clearly seemed to be the bad guys, given what he'd heard of the Colony thirty massacre. Three million souls, killed by G-3 poison gas, just to stop an anti-Earth protest, in a blatant attempt to discourage any further dissent. It brought back extremely unpleasant memories of what Admiral Helena Cain, of the Pegasus, had done, all in the name of maintaining order and efficiency, to the small civilian fleet she abandoned, not to mention executing her long-time XO, who had protested her actions. Get a hold of yourself, Focker! Pull your thoughts back on track! With an effort of will easily visible to nearby pedestrians, Skulls brought himself back to the present, and to less offensive thoughts. Margaret Edmondson, as both the ranking officer and a Viper pilot, had been busy with the 'official' side of business during their star, whereas he was more of a 'grunt' operator. Thus, Skulls was free to explore and play the proverbial tourist. What he found, was that this lunar city was very reminiscent of home. Quite a few cultural differences, which he really couldn't put words to, were foremost in his mind. Yet at the same time, he saw how much alike his people and those of the Thirteenth Tribe were. One difference he couldn't bring himself to accept, was the fully-squared shape of their books, and by extension, their paper. He really missed the hexagonal-cornered variety that the Fleet used. The manager of a local paper provider, FedEx-Kinkos, thought that Roy was out of his mind, after he purchased some stationery, and then proceeded to cut the corners off all the sheets. Hey, I bought the damn paper, so I'll do whatever I frakkin' want with it! were Focker's thoughts on the subject. He'd been to one of the local parks, silently watching the children play. The surrealism of it all, brought a tear to his eye. The notion that Humanity was not dying out, that is was indeed strong and still growing, uplifted Focker's spirits to a level he didn't believe, existed. Oh, for want of the day when all thirteen tribes would re-unite, and send every last frakking Cylon to the scrap yard... Personally, I’d melt down a few Centurions, just to make a couple of nice, cheap, lamp posts, Skulls mused. He fervently wished that that all of the Earthers would pull themselves together, and put aside this internal strife, like the Twelve Colonies did so, as a result of the First Cylon War. Ironically, the original Cylons were created to help wage war against fellow Colonials, one colony against another, human versus human. They had treated the Cylons as little more than disposable tools, until said 'tools' had decided to more or less tell their masters to 'Go frak yourselves,' thus all humans were now the enemy. History tended to be cyclic, in a very cruel way, yet at the same time, proved that it played no favorites. The Cylons would likely bring death and destruction down upon this fragmented patch of humanity, he was fairly sure. Just as they had with Focker's own people, not even two years ago. The notion of a cybernetic race, whom now possessed the means to create nearly undetectable infiltrators, and had goals simply beyond revenge on their creators, had sent the leaders of the various Earth-, lunar-, Jovian- and colony based factions into an uproar. Just what exactly those goals were, no one in the Fleet knew. Not even their own resident skin-job defector, who claimed that she'd cut off all ties to her people. Skulls was currently reserving judgment on her, and her loyalty. He wouldn't go out of his way to help 'Boomer #2', but he didn't think of her as 'just another frakking skin-job toaster.' Still, Focker mused, at least the information on the Cylons is getting some of the local higher-ups to pay more attention to more than just their immediate sphere of influence, limited as it was, and make at least some attempt at showing pan-global unity. The latest rumors had it that a small fleet of ships were being assembled. That fleet's orders were to jump to the Colonials' last known position. In the event of confirmed non-hostile contact, the fleet was give any and all necessary support to the Colonial refugees, until their ships could be brought to a designated safe zone within the Earth Sphere. Medical supplies (including the necessary staff), as well as foodstuffs and munitions were among the items being assembled. All of these provisions were crammed to capacity aboard a Jupitris-class super-transport, which rumors suggested was the maiden ship of the class, the Jupitris herself. The various higher-ups, including those from AEUG, Axis, Federation, and even the Titans all agreed, that knowledge of Earth's position was to be protected at any and all costs, until all factions could beef up their defenses for a possible, and likely inevitable, all-out assault by Cylon forces. Looks like his and Racetrack's return would be the proverbial mixed bag, Skulls concluded. The entire Fleet would be ecstatic that they had some place that they could truly call a new home, and settle down in. On the other hand... he couldn't even guess on how the Colonials would fare in the long term, especially given the frakked up political and social issues of the Earth Sphere. Yeah, that part's not gonna make the Admiral, the President, nor the Quorum happy. Not one damn bit. - Mobile Suit Carrier Argama: Lounge - nine Days After Initial Contact Racetrack hummed to herself, reflecting on the current situation, as she sipped from a fresh cup of coffee in the Argama's pilot lounge. Plotting the jump to the the Fleet's location was taking longer then initially expected; the coordinates needed adjustments, factoring in stellar drift and relativistic conditions. If it came down to it, there was the option of making shorter jumps (in order to avoid the all-too-real possibility of jump failure, or worse, a mis-jump to who-knows-where), and extrapolating probable target areas for the Colonial refugees, as the rescue fleet proceeded on its mission. Fortunately, Earth computers seemed to be far in advance of the Colonials' equivalent, so the risk wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. And yet, the idea of FTL travel was barely even a consideration for the Earth scientists, outside of the realm of theory... Still, neither she, nor Skulls had any intention of tempting death, due to their hosts' overconfidence in their computer technology. Edmondson and Focker had warned the various participating Commanders on the electronic warfare capabilities of the Cylons, systems hacking in particular, just to be thorough. Techs from Anaheim and the AEUG, after a detailed analysis of the Raptor's systems, had determined that the two computer technology bases were inherently incompatible, and thus virtually immune to ESW (electronic systems warfare) attacks from the Cylons. The basis for the techs' conclusions, drew upon the history of Earth's information technology, all the way back to the old, pre-UC calendar era. Earth, it seemed, had utilized an immense variety of operating systems, many of which had turned out to be incompatible with their competitors. Even in the current day and age, a similar practice endured. Regardless, standards of that era (as well as the present), had demanded that those systems to at least be able to communicate with each other, if not necessarily run their competitors' products. Not only that, innumerable hardware and software-based firewalls had been developed over time, to ensure network security. They utilized protocols completely different that those used by the Twelve Colonies, further reducing the threat of remote access. On the off-chance that the firewalls were somehow bypassed, many thousands of anti-virus/malware programs existed. Utilized in a nested configuration, any foreign programming code that survived the firewalls, would be immediately find itself besieged and contained, if not outright deleted. The finale 'ace in the hole', an odd metaphor if Racetrack ever heard one, were the Minovsky particle fields that their vessels deployed during combat conditions. By all indications, those fields dampened virtually all electro-magnetic emissions. DRADIS (or radar, as the Earthers called it), wireless (Or radio another new term from the earthers), just about anything EM based (excepting visual), was rendered useless in a Minovsky field. Even IF the Cylons could somehow break through all of the network security, and even that required the Cylons to somehow brute-force a 'handshake' with the Earth-based systems (which was already an extremely remote possibility), all of this was effort was rendered meaningless by the EM-dampening properties of a Minovsky particle field. The Minovsky field pretty much frakked over both Colonial and Cylon hardware like no tomorrow, akin to setting off multiple EM pulses at close range. Not to mention wireless communication was all but impossible. Laser-based messaging seemed to be the accepted standard for both MS and capital ship communications. All of these factors, of course, reduce combat range to practically point-blank, knife-fighting. And that's a whole other issue altogether, Racetrack mused. She'd have to bring those issues up with the Admiral, too. In particular, missiles were likely to become secondary considerations for combat, even if the Fleet's entire stocks were somehow refitted to use ImRec (Image Recognition) based tracking, but that was probably too cost-prohibitive to even attempt, and probably wouldn't even work anyway. No, missiles were definitely looking to be phased out, especially the Viper and Raptor-mounted versions. - Several Hours Later - Same Location Forcing her thoughts to return to the present, her attention was currently occupied by the immense leviathan currently holding relative position, alongside the Argama. “Okay... that ship is frakkin' big,” she muttered, staring out the viewport. At 2 clicks in length, it dwarfed both the 'Bucket' and the 'Beast'. “Well, to be fair, it IS a transport vessel,” came from a voice behind her, who she identified as Lt. Bajeena. “A pleasure to see you again, Lieutenant Edmondson,” Quattro smiled. She'd only arrived on the Argama hours ago, as Captain Noah had previously returned to Earth to pick up a few extra passengers. Speaking of whom, here they are now, Quattro thought, even as he grimaced slightly at the presence of one of the Argama's newest pilots. Immediately noticing the new arrivals, Racetrack stood up, sizing up the two. Neither of the two men were particularly tall, she noted, the taller of the two standing no more than 5'9", the shorter, and younger-looking man around 5'6". The taller man had dark-brown, curly hair cut short, almost in a bowl-shape, with a trim, yet very fit physique. However, what really stood out about him, were the pair of blue-hued eyes, that were among the most haunted Racetrack had ever seen, bar none. This guy's definitely seen, and gone through some damn serious shit in his time. Probably wasn't even something he wanted to happen in the first place, Racetrack surmised. The shorter of the two new arrivals, was something of a marked contrast to the first man. His frame was somewhat slender, though unmistakably tensed, and his facial profile, framed by blue-colored (how did THAT happen?) hair, that was somewhat longer than his companion's, gave off an very slight feminine impression. At least, that was what a stranger would have interpreted, until one looked into the young man's blue eyes. As opposed to the haunted, yet also distant look that she'd seen from the first man, this one's eyes looked to combine anger, fear, mistrust, and a terrible sense of loss, all in one. Oh frak, she thought. This one's just only been recently thrown into the deep end, and he's just barely managing to pull through, Racetrack concluded. Just like a whole lot of us, after the Twelve Colonies were wiped out. “May I introduce Lieutenant Amuro Ray, known among some circles as the 'White Devil',” Quattro gestured towards the brown-haired man, keeping a completely neutral expression on his face, which wasn't hindered at all by the dark-shaded glasses he almost always seemed to wear. Amuro's expression had hardened at the reference, but held his peace, for the time being. He wasn't fooled in the least by the 'Quattro Bajeena' identity, when they'd met briefly while on Earth. It was definitely HIM. “And this young man here, is Kamille Bidan,” Quattro repeated the same gesture as he had with Lt. Amuro, but also wore a slight smile on his face, this time. In addition, Quattro's stance wasn't nearly as tense as when he'd introduced Amuro Ray. Kamille himself briefly tensed at the mention of his first name, then visibly calmed himself. Ouch, having a girl's name can't possibly be good for a guy's self-esteem. Note to self: make sure not to bring that up in conversation; also make sure that Skulls knows not to talk about it, either, Racetrack noted. “Gentlemen, this is one of our not-exactly extra-terrestrial guests, Lieutenant Margaret Edmondson, of the Colonial Fleet. She prefers her callsign, 'Racetrack'.” Both Amuro and Kamille gave a polite nod of their heads, as well as a restrained smile. “These two will be piloting two Gundams available to us.” “Nice to meet the both of you,” Racetrack extended her hand to both pilots, who shook her hand in turn. “Lieutenant Ray, heard a lot about you from the other pilots. Supposed to be the best frakkin' pilot they know,” Racetrack said, as she faced Amuro. “Rumor mill says, you eat your enemies' hearts raw in a sandwich, and women throw themselves at your feet, begging to have your children,” Racetrack joked, falling back on the time-honored grim, sarcastic humor that veteran pilots always seemed to use to lighten up a situation. Amuro smirked, accepting the friendly bait, “Thanks, but the rumor mill's a bit off. Human hearts give me indigestion, and I've got no luck whatsoever with women,” he finished. That last part was actually true, in a way, Amuro mused. He'd lost track of Sayla over the years. Really, Racetrack grinned. Kind of cute, but that thousand-klick stare would definitely drive off the more 'normal' crowd, she concluded. “Change of topic here, but I heard that Project Zeta's prototype is coming along for the Ride?” Amuro asked. “Already locked up, loaded, and ready to kick some serious Cylon ass. It's a thing of beauty,” Racetrack replied. “Handles like a dream, and the Waverider Mode's a really big plus, since I've had some flight time in a Viper.” That was yet another massive understatement. The Zeta Gundam was frakking transformable. It combined the best aspects of a jet-fighter mode, with all primary thrusters vectored aft for maximum acceleration, and could revert to mobile suit mode once it reached its designated combat zone for optimum maneuverability, as well as the more familiar piloting style used by all MS-assigned personnel in the Earth forces. Theoretically, the Waverider Mode could even allow safe, un-aided re-entry into Earth's atmosphere, a curious (and possibly fatal) omission from the large majority of the Earth Sphere's mobile suits. Even Vipers and Raptors were capable of such a feat, both into and out of, though that would suck down their Tylium reserves, like water to a very dry sponge. “You already flew it?” Kamille asked, shocked. He was practically its original designer (though Anaheim had certainly helped out); he believed that he himself should have gotten first crack at piloting the Zeta. “Oh, yeah. Nina Purpleton from Anaheim, let me and Lt. Kou Uraki try it out. Have to admit, he's pretty damn good... alright, better than I am,” Racetrack admitted. Amuro and Quattro both recalled the name from rumors flying around in the aftermath of Operation Stardust, back in UC 0083. Amuro had heard the name muttered by some guards, several times during his house arrest, whereas Quattro had come across the name, spoken of in disgust, fear, and respect, all at once occasionally, from his clandestine visits to the various ex-Zeon factions. The young, inexperienced, ex-test pilot had rapidly developed his skills to the point where he could fight Anavel Gato, a.k.a. the 'Nightmare of Solomon', considered among the very best non-Newtype pilots flying under Zeon ideals, on a nearly-even level. Uraki may not have been a Newtype, but his piloting skills were certainly not just for show. Kamille on the other hand, just barely recognized the name, once having overheard a conversation between his late father, and one of those murdering bastards from the Titans. He couldn't quite remember the conversation's topic, but the name was definitely there. “Yeah, he's definitely good, but not quite in the league of Starbuck, Kat, or Lt. Bajeena here,” she continued. “Still surprised that you guys have to maintain your own rides. We've got a full deck crew for that... then again, I suppose I can see the reasoning behind it. Never know when you're the only qualified mechanic, Gods' know how far away from any safe harbor,” Racetrack finished. “Here, here...” chorused from the other three MS pilots. Belatedly noting a certain coffee brand being used in an odd context, Amuro asked, “Starbuck? She a coffee-holic?” Amuro understood quite well that the name was most likely a call sign, but it was such an easy mark for really bad puns... Catching on quickly, Kamille followed up with, ”You people got a Starbucks there? Wow. And here I thought the company was only system-wide, now they're interstellar... guys' who started that franchise must be filthy rich,” he finished, with a downright evil smirk on his face. That got few cheap laughs from all four pilots, followed by Racetrack's (often repeated) explanation of Thrace's call sign. “Out of curiosity, why don't we pilots use call signs?” Kamille asked. It was a question that hadn't really seemed important before now, but since the topic was brought up, he ran with it. He was also quite curious about certain rumors regarding Lt. Quattro's past, and a nickname he went by... “Ace pilots during the AD calendar used to have 'em. Well, either call signs or nicknames, why don't we re-instate the practice?” Amuro could see where this was heading, and he decided to torment 'Quattro Bajeena', just a little. While he respected the man professionally for his abilities, on a personal level, he still hadn't forgiven Char Aznable, nor himself for that matter, for the death of a certain person dear to both of them. Amuro was, however, willing to at least put the past behind, and try to forget, all the while fighting alongside his once arch-enemy/rival. The next few days would undoubtedly put that resolve to the test, far more than any other situation he could imagine. Returning to the subject of callsigns and/or nicknames, “Not a bad idea, maybe we should. Your opinion, Lt. Bajeena? Or perhaps I should say, Red Comet?” Quattro glowered disapprovingly at Amuro. That was a cheap shot, White Devil. Kamille, for his part, recognized that nickname right away, and he put the scattered facts he'd collected on 'Quattro Bajeena' together. No doubt about it. The Duchy of Zeon's greatest ace, during the One Year War... Char Aznable. “That person is long dead. And I don't really have an opinion on that issue,” Quattro replied, refusing to abandon his current identity. “Doesn't seem that way to me,” Amuro said, in sardonic amusement. “Should have gone for more than just the designer shades.” Racetrack immediately decided to change the subject, just knowing that any further conversation on this topic would soon end up hostile, and that was the best-case scenario. She wouldn't have been surprised if an all-out fistfight broke loose. “Ahem... Nina said she's re-assembled and upgraded the Mark II that Anaheim had been picking apart. The techs are also bringing the parts to assemble a few more mobile suits, probably for the Fleet's use,” Racetrack elaborated, herself not quite sure why they'd bother, since the training involved was quite extensive. She herself had only a few hours of instruction, and of course had nowhere near the skill of the MS aces present. Not to mention Starbuck, Kat, and the others would probably laugh their heads off at the very idea of a mobile suit, preferring their trusty and dependable Vipers. That is, until they got a good look at what they could pull off; the Zeta Gundam might be slightly more to their liking, if only for the Waverider's jet-fighter like characteristics. “Aren't we just going to bring the refugees back right away? Once we make contact, that is,” asked Kamille. Unlike Lt. Edmonson, his appraisal of the situation was more astute than Racetrack's. He suspected that the additional parts weren't really for new MS'es, but rather repair/replacement of their own units' systems. Almost as we weren't expected to return right away... “No, we're not,” replied Quattro, confirming Kamille's suspicions. “That is the rationale behind bringing the Jupitris and its escorts. We do know the *general* location of the Colonial Fleet, however, there is always the possibility that the ships have already moved on.” “Thus, it is likely that our force will be called upon to search the surrounding systems. In the interests of safety, our hyperlight jumps will be relatively short-distanced, much like the Colonials, until we're more used to them,” Quattro continued. “In the event of contact, we are to verify their identities, ascertain their current tactical condition, and barring extraordinary circumstances, we will escort them in the Sol System's general direction.” “Again, the jumps on the return trip will be short-ranged, but this type for strategic purposes. Essentially, we'll be buying time for the Earth Sphere to prepare, but also sufficient time for us to conduct any repairs and refits on their vessels as needed, should the Colonial Government approve.” “By prepare, you're referring to the Cylons?” Racetrack added. While it wasn't as ideal a situation as she'd prefer, the tactical logic made sense. She'd have probably recommended the same strategy, if their positions were reversed. “Exactly. Fleet numbers for all factions aren't what they used to be. Nearly a thousand capital ships, among all groups, were in service just prior to the outbreak of the One Year War,” Quattro stated, seemingly about to enter 'lecture mode' again. “We're looking at several weeks, possibly even months, despite all available resources being devoted to the construction effort, before the Earth Sphere has the ship numbers to reasonably stand up to a major Cylon assault.” “On the positive side, thanks to the FTL drives, gathering helium-3 won't be as difficult an issue as before. No more need for highly-covert, heavily-secured transit routes between Earth and Jupiter. Just jump in, gather the gas, then jump out.” “Even with this advantage, there is still the matter of training the ship crews, once construction is completed. Patrols will have to encompass all of the Sides, Earth itself, Luna, Jupiter and Mars,” Quattro concluded. “Briefing said the Cylons like to use nukes,” Kamille said feeling sick at the idea, which was reflected in his expression. “...and they like to use them in a way which makes the death toll from Operation British seem almost tame by comparison,” Kamille finished. “Tame? Thirteen percent of the Australia's land mass was wiped out, and the fatality count for just that one week, was over two and a half billion people!” Amuro seethed, who couldn't just categorize that week as a 'tame' event. Amuro Ray had seen the live and after-action reports, both in and out of class, during his time in Side 7 as engineering student. “Holy frack...” replied a newcomer, who was pushing a big carton of groceries. It was Roy 'Skulls' Focker, Racetrack's DRADIS operator, if the three remembered correctly. “Yeah, we'd better have learned our lessons from something like that... at least, officially,” commented Amuro. “Why's that?” asked Skulls, his curiosity morbidly peaked by the earlier discussion. Just what kind of rules of warfare did these people have, anyway? Probably none, which can be a good thing, or a really bad thing for us... “In the aftermath of Operation British, the Antarctic Treaty was amended to completely ban the use of the use of nuclear, biological, and chemical weaponry, as well as colony drops, and attacks on the Jupiter Energy Fleet,” Quattro stated. Colony drop? Frak, someone actually used one of those gigantic things as an orbital drop weapon? The sheer destructive force, possible fatality count, and long-term environmental damage... these people were out of their frakkin' minds! went through both Racetrack's and Skulls' thoughts. Both chose not to dwell on that subject any further. And yet, the Focker and Edmondson also recalled Kou Uraki's story, regarding himself, someone named Anavel Gato, Nina, and a nuclear-bazooka equipped Gundam. Which might be one of the MS's being rebuilt as a result of the GP-unit project being restarted, though they didn't get details on that. Of the two, Focker made the decision to make yet *another* change of topic... which seemed appropriate given how morbid the overall mood had turned. “Say, Lieutenant, I got the supplies we wanted. I couldn't find the 'Cheezios', but these ones,” throwing Racetrack a bag, “er, 'Cheetos', were in the vending machine. Looks like we're all set,” Focker grinned, with a cheesy-looking grin. All in all, he'd gotten the drinks, and the snacks. Yep, he and Racetrack were ready to head out. Amuro glanced dubiously at time items, “You guys' planning a party, or you two gonna kill yourself by alcohol poisoning?” “Huh... I choose party? Everyone here's invited. Though, yeah, I bought more then we needed. Gifts for buddies back at the Fleet.” Roy said resting his hand on the Starbucks cases. Everyone present could see the train wreck waiting to occur light-years away; the recipient of one of those Starbucks' cases was dead obvious. Outcome #1: Kara Thrace was would switch to another callsign (assuming the other pilots even let her, you don't choose your handle), to save what was left of her pride in the aftermath... Outcome #2: Skulls, and probably Racetrack as well, were dead men walking. Woman, in Racetrack's case, of course. But Skulls was definitely marked. Either way, Thrace was going to have Roy to thank (more likely blame) for introducing something to the Galactica crew, that they'd never forget. “You, are an evil, evil, man Roy,” Racetrack said. She might actually miss him... “Not only that, a couple dozen video discs and players. Not much entertainment variety left,” Focker said, really hoping that his embarrassment wasn't too obvious. “Yeah, I can imagine...” Amuro said, as Roy walked outside. Amuro then commented, under his breath, “He has over a year's worth of porn,” to Racetrack, Kamille, and Quattro. Their reactions were pretty much what anyone would expect. - Colonial Battlestar Galactica: CIC - 9 Days, Post-Caprica Rescue Mission Fleet Admiral William 'Husker' Adama hated surprises, no matter what the type. The current situation was a far cry from the good kind. Turning to Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, Galactica's Tactical Officer (who was temporarily taking over Dualla's communications' duties for the time being), he gave the order. “Sound general quarters, set Condition One throughout the Fleet. Have all ships spool up their FTL drives for immediate jump! Launch alert Vipers!” Four Cylon baseships had jumped into their vincinity, and were already launching their Raider wings. In response, 'the Bucket' and 'the Beast' launched their full Viper complements, a mixture of Mark II's and VII's from Galactica, and all Mark VII's from Pegasus, led by their respective CAGs, Starbuck and Kat. Lieutenant Brendan "Hotdog" Constanza, found himself leading one of Galactica's mixed squadrons, a position that the former Academy washout never thought he'd find himself in. His opposite number, Captain Cole "Stinger" Taylor, also lead his own squadron of Mark VIIs; determined to take down as many toasters as possible, in order to make up for lost time being stuck in Pegasus' brig. “Sir, Commander Apollo from Pegasus on the line,” Gaeta informed the Admiral. Personally, he was glad that the elder Adama had been promoted in the wake of Admiral Helena Cain's death, and not just for the man's considerably more sane disposition than his predecessor. Having two Commander Adama's would have confused the hell out of everyone, military and civilian alike. As a compromise of sorts, Lee Adama was being referred to by his callsign, rather than by first or last name. “Pegasus reports, the jump calculations haven't been finalized yet, and are requesting additional time before...” Gaeta abruptly broke off his report. Almost immediately following his last few words, another pair of baseships had jumped in, but their location, speed, and bearing... “What the hell?! Admiral, DRADIS registers two additional Cylon baseships just jumped in, but... they're positioning themselves between us and first group!” “Galactica, are you seeing this? This has gotta be some kind of trick,” That was Apollo on the wireless. “Affirmative, Pegasus, we're seeing it too. I don't believe it either, but let's not push our luck too far.” Turning once again to Gaeta, “Order all ships to continue jump preparations. I want us out of here the moment Pegasus finishes the FTL calculations.” Gaeta nodded his acknowledgment, and was about to relay the Admiral's instructions, when his boards indicated an incoming transmission... from one of the Base Ships of the second group! “Admiral, we're receiving jump coordinates from the second Base Ship group, along with a message,” Gaeta reported. “Message reads: Jump out immediately to these coordinates, Commander, we'll talk later at the rendezvouz point, signed Sharon; P.S. I'm so sorry for shooting you... I love you like a father... it wasn't me! Message ends,” Gaeta finished, in as much disbelief of the message as the rest of the CIC personnel. “Galactica, we picked up the same transmission, it's being broadcast only in our general direction. You can't seriously be considering this? It just reeks of an ambush attempt!” Apollo exclaimed. William Adama was inclined to agree, at first. But it seemed too obvious a ploy. If the Cylons really wanted to wipe out the survivors, they already had more than enough forces present to do severe damage, if not wipe out Galactica and Pegasus off the star maps, not to mention the civilian ships. On the other hand, if they really wanted to herd the Fleet towards an even larger ambush, they could have used a more subtle attempt to drive them towards a desired location. Using a known Cylon model that had personally left him near death, to send this kind of a message, was far too obvious. Discounting either of those possibilities, that left the option that, in utter disregard of all common sense, the message might actually be a genuine offer of assistance. To his own utter disbelief (shared by his son on Pegasus, and both ships' CIC crews), his gut was telling him that this wasn't a trap. Just to be sure, he contacted 'the Beast', one more time. “Pegasus, Galactica actual. What's the status on those jump calculations?” Adama demanded. Time was running out. After a few seconds of silence, “Galactica, Pegasus here. We're looking at least five more minutes before we're finished with 'em.” That left Admiral Adama with exactly one option left. Pushing down the profound sense of misgiving that his brain was radiating, he made his choice. “...to hell with it! All Vipers, Return to the barn, at once. Retract the pods once they have landed and finalize jump prep! Same goes for Pegasus, and the rest of the Fleet! Stand by to distribute the received jump coordinates,” Adama instructed. “Admiral, you can't be serious about...” came from Lee, over the wireless. “If this a trap, then it’s a trap. We'll deal with that problem, if and when it presents itself, and no earlier!” the Admiral firmly stated. Adama was frustrated, but managed to keep his calm, barely showing any outward anger at all. “At some point, this endless paranoia and distrust needs to stop, but that's an issue for another time,” Adama decided. “As ranking military officer, I've determined that this option offers the Fleet the optimum chances for survival, and have made my decision accordingly!” “At this point, whether we trust the contents of that message, or the sender's intentions is irrelevant. There is simply no other viable option available.” “I'll take full responsibility for this decision, when I make my report to the President. For the time being, follow your orders!” Adama finished. “...Lords of Kobol, I think you’ve gone mad... very well, commencing final jump prep, in five seconds, go!” Apollo replied. “Mr. Gaeta, if you recall my earlier instructions, carry them out immediately,” Adama ordered. Gaeta snapped off a quick, yet perfectly sharp salute, “Yes, sir! Relaying orders and jump coordinates to the Fleet!” The next two minutes could best be described as controlled chaos, as the civilian ships finalized their own jump preparations. At the same time, Vipers returned to their mother ships at insane velocities, making ugly, yet still perfectly-executed combat landings into their assigned landing zones. Seconds after the last Viper entered Galactica's port-side landing bay, the 'Bucket' began a rapid retraction of both flight pods. Within 15 seconds, the pods were fully retracted and secured. “Galactica actual to Fleet, commence simultaneous jump-out on my mark,” Adama ordered. Five seconds later, “Mark!” The entire Fleet jumped out at the same time, followed shortly after by the two base stars, who had mysteriously chose to aid them. - Cylon Base Ship, Designation Unknown: Conference Room - Several Hours Later The leadership of one of the four remaining Base Ships gathered to discuss the unexpected recent events. There were seven in total, one each of the seven main human-form Cylon models present. One of the Brother Cavil's served as the meeting's unofficial leader. “This is bad,” was his opening. “Well, that's an understatement,” replied the Number Three. “Fortunately, when the 'two great heroes of the Cylons' spoke, only few of us listened,” came from a Doral model, or rather Number Five. “Heroes? Please, they're traitors!” the Cavil model spoke with contempt. “They actually want us to live in peace with them! There can't be any peace after how they've treated us in the past!” the Cavil model exclaimed. “Well, to be fair, the remnants are more or less our parents,” came from the Number Six. “And surely, some among us must have felt that we could at least try to move past killing one another,” Six finished. “I'd be more careful not to sympathize so greatly with the survivors, After all, the 'greatest among your line' is among those, whose actions led up to this incident,” the Doral model warned her. At that warning, the Six model decided to remain silent for the rest of the meeting. Her entire series was now currently under suspicion, as was one other model... The Number Eight present at the meeting hadn't spoken a single word during the entire meeting thus far, nor would she even attempt to do so. Both "Caprica Six" and "Boomer" were responsible for the others casting doubt upon their numbers. “The humans are an evolutionary dead end, we represent the future. God's plan, and our part in it, will show that to the universe,” came from the Simon model, trying to steer the meeting back on topic. “I still can't let go of the fact that, some of us put themselves in front of our ships, to save the humans of all things!” came from the Cavil unit. “If they somehow believe that they'll be accepted by Colonial refugees, they're even more faulty than we realized,” the Three model commented. “Only time, and the results of God's plan, will tell,” said the Leoben representative. “The patterns that I see, they have undergone a paradigm shift. Many changes are coming.” “Cease that nonsense of yours immediately, what we have here is a group of traitors to our cause, no more, no less! The simplest explanation works best here,” the Cavil model scoffed. “We need to press on the attacks,” the brother Cavil intoned. “We will eliminate any and all obstacles that hinder our efforts.” A tentative, silent agreement was reached between the leadership. The time for words was over, now the deeds were to follow. “We've recently located a planet suitable for colonization,” came from the Simon model, “I propose that we set up a more permanent base of operations for this sector, on that world.” “Very good, we shall establish a presence there immediately. The security of our Resurrection Ships are must not be compromised in any way,” Number Five concluded.

story chapters 1-2 posted

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Looks good. And I'm not a fan of buttermilk. What does that kind of pie taste like anyway?</div></div> it is a type of custard pie.</div></div> But why does it smelly fishy? Why is there fur in my burger?</div></div> you need to brush your teeth and wash your face after you eat out your girl friend.</div></div> Of course. This way my wife won't know. </div></div> rofl. you pimp you!

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>I think mine is l33telboi...? Not sure. Don't really play online much, but I got Live yesterday so...</div></div> sent friend request!

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Looks good. And I'm not a fan of buttermilk. What does that kind of pie taste like anyway?</div></div> it is a type of custard pie.</div></div> But why does it smelly fishy? Why is there fur in my burger?</div></div> you need to brush your teeth and wash your face after you eat out your girl friend.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Looks good. And I'm not a fan of buttermilk. What does that kind of pie taste like anyway?</div></div> it is a type of custard pie.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>So I can wait and see you eventually get banned again. </div></div> That sounds like a challenge to me! Ok you're on! </div></div> I am taking bets!

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Well if I should be so jealous of you posting there why the hell are you here? </div></div> So I can wait and see you eventually get banned again. j/k</div></div> we keep him around so the women will be in shock and be approachable by us.</div></div> In other words, we keep him around to make us look good? </div></div> lol.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Well if I should be so jealous of you posting there why the hell are you here? </div></div> So I can wait and see you eventually get banned again. j/k</div></div> we keep him around so the women will be in shock and be approachable by us.

A meeting of chance a meeting of faith, both impact the lives they touch equally. The forces at work in the universe rarely give second chances, or grant wishes. If you find yourself given such a blessing, cherish it, embrace it. For it can be taken away as quickly as it was granted. For a commander Data, of the enterprise ncc1701-E, His life was about to change, with what would be the end, of his mortal existence. Had he been human, he might have hesitated, and contemplated saving his own skin. He didn't even think, as he placed the portable transportation device on his captain, his father figure, Jean luc Picard, sending him safely to the enterprise. The last nanoseconds of his existence, he hoped that his cat spot, and her children would be taken care of and that his crew would live on without him, in a better world. His mind started to grasp all the possibilities of existence, and grew beyond it's limits. He evolved, he changed. It was as if he was floating in a pool of energy, in a dream like state. He opened his eyes, upon hearing voices, which turned a faces he recognized. “Hello data!” the female said. “Amanda?” his mind racing at the possibilities. “I don't know how he got this far, it's inconceivable” a voice which he identified as the Q who had visit the enterprise quiet often “Especially for a mechanical being, Jean Luc could have reached it, but he held back”. “Data is special” Amanda declared. “Yes, but he is stuck, he isn't fully ascended, as the primitives in the alterran realities like to call it. Ever talk to one of them? They think their all powerful because they changed their flesh bodies for ones made out of energy. What a bunch of crock. Did you also know that your reality is fiction to them?” “Yes, there are a lot of realities which have the federation and it's galaxy as fiction.” admitted Amanda. “What do we do with him?” posed the young Q, the son of Q and Q. “How about a test? One worthy of my teacher of the humanities” “what are you thinking?” accused Amanda fully aware of Q's antics. “Your project my dear Amanda, the wish you want to grant, I say we use him to help.” proposed Q “Good idea, do we give him his old body back?” asked the young Q. “no, I say we also help him towards his dreams as well, since he will be instrumental in changing the course of one galaxy.” quickly slipping “I also owe him one” “Without his android abilities he is very vulnerable” pointed out Amanda. “Please Amanda, I am more creative then to give him a plain human body,” he snapped as data's soul convulsed and dissipated. “It is done,” Q declared. “We should have briefed him on the mission” critiqued Amanda “No, let him figure it out.” seeing the face of Amanda turn into a frown “ besides, it's more fun that way” - Data woke, he was laying down in a corridor. He quickly stood up, trying to figure out where he was. “Curious, I can't seem to access my diagnosis subroutines,” He walked what seemed to be a small freighter of sorts. He noticed a strange alien walking along the strange ship's corridor.. “Greetings, I seem to be lost.” he said to the alien who's reactions was anything but friendly as he was grabbing for his weapon. Data quickly shortened the gap between them, grabbing the aliens arm, putting him in a hold. “I am sorry, but It seems your not the cooperative type!” he Vulcan neck pinched the alien, putting him in a safe place. He then took what appeared to be a holster and a gun. He started to inspect himself. He was curiously dressed in what he would call, 20th century garb. A shirt, leather jacker, jeans, and sneakers. He heard a cry and yells from the adjoining room, in a strange language. He slammed the door open to find what appeared to be a male human who was chasing a semi clad female who ran towards him, with tears in her eyes. Upon further inspection he noticed that she had been abused, and with the shape of her clothes, the man had other intentions in mind. She also had a collar on her neck, which meant one thing 'Slave'. The Male had noticed him, started yelling in some strange language, going for what appeared to be a weapon. Data didn't think as he drew his weapon and shot the man in the shoulder, the wound causing him to fall on the floor. “Interesting,” he noted “the weapon appears to be a plasma based, similar to early earth weapons but far more compact and advanced.” The woman was in shock, as he placed her on the bed. He proceeded to look for anything that would indicate a key. He didn't find one. “Stay here” he said to her handing his weapon, “for your protection”. She seemed to understand and kept the gun on the man, who was swearing. She shot him in the head, several times. “I had hoped to not kill anyone,” remembering his own incident with the man who had kidnapped him and his death, he understood. He saw an assortment of weapons, He picked what appeared to be a shotgun variant , with a pistol for his secondary weapon. He noted two cylindrical objects. “strange,” he pushed the button on one, a beam of energy raced up to form what appeared to be a blade. “Interesting”. He deactivated the energy blade weapon and placed it on his belt, taking the other one as well. The woman had been more productive, it seems, as she had found the keys to the collar and freed herself. She handed the key to him seeming to thank him. He nodded moving towards the door. “Lock it when i leave,” he advised, opening then closing the door behind him. Hoping the earlier noise from the weapons did not attract any unwanted attention. He quickly walked across the hall, noting the two grunts who had found the body. “damn” he cussed, getting the attention of the grunts, who turned and fired. He got hit in the chest by the blasts of hot plasma. He felt pain, this was new to him. He proceeded to fire back, getting a clear head shot on one, the other ducking for cover. He followed suit. Quick yells where heard, “there are more of them, I need to quickly put them down” He jumped forward, faster then any human could, surprising the grunt who had called for backup. Using the metal box the grunt had used for cover for support, he did a flip over the it , while firing at the shocked slaver in the chest, putting him down. He heard noises of people, in the back ground. “not too far away” he summarized. He went towards the noise as he saw a door. He pressed on the pad, finding it locked. “whoever they are, their behind this door,” He had to get to the other side. Inspiration hit him as he took out the energy blade Sword. A snap and a hiss, he cut the locking mechanism. “Very useful” he placed the weapon back on his belt, as he tried to open the door. “hmm. It appears i have also fried the opening mechanism” He decided to do it the old fashioned way, he placed his hands on the door and pulled it off it's hinges, making a tearing noise which echoed across the ship. “oh oh” He sighed as he had obviously alerted more of the crew. He got hit in the back with two more of the energy weapon discharges as he turned towards the people firing at him using the door as a shield. He kicked the door at them, falling backwards, taking out his weapons in the same process fired on them. One was got shot in the gut, with the shot gun weapon, his stomach exploded, leaving. The other, who got hit in the nether regions, crawling away, rather painfully. He went down the now open corridor when he realized he was in pain, this was unusual for him. He decided to ignore it and move on. Sneaking behind the boxes and other things placed in the area. He heard crys of people form behind one door, He found that the door was not electronically locked but was closed with a mechanical bar. He removed it and was to open the door but was promptly grabbed by a large alien and tossed into the wall. What ever this thing was, it was strong. It grappled data by the shoulders, trying to grab for his throat. Data came to the conclusion that with his physical condition and the strength of the alien, there was one thing he could do. He kicked it in the gonads, as the results where apparent, the aliens face turned a nice shade of pink as he started to let go. Using the alien as a stepping stool he jumped off of him pushing him to the door making a thud. Data slammed into the Alien in order to Immobelize it, as it appeard to be recovering, this made a deep indentation in the door. This apparently was not enough as data went to the last resort, he picked up the guns and riddled the alien with holes. The alien fell with a thud as his blood started oozing out on the floor filling the area with it's stench. He forced the door open, discovering the dark, occupied room. The room reeked of human feces and unwashed people. He saw a young girl, next to an older woman, holding a new born child, and another child huddled together. He put his weapon aside . “It is ok I am here to help” He brought out the electronic key, he had stashed in his pocket and opened the young girl, who appeared to be surprisingly healthy, for the living conditions they where enduring. She said something, he didn't understand as he grabbed her arms, unlocking her slave color. She said seemed to thank him. “Your welcomed” he sighed as he gave the key to her pointing to the others, then motioning to the key. She seemed to understand as he quickly left the room. “We need weapons” he told himself, as the pain was getting to him. He found the bodies of the slavers and took what he could carry, rushing back to the room. He handed the the few he thought would be able to help the weapons he had scavenged. The slaves cheered as they followed him, a loose battalion of troupes, headed out to fight for their freedom. The route took them to the heart of the ship, or what he would refer to as the bridge, there where a few bodies, some dead, others dieing along the way. They lead into what appeared to be a lounge, the door was open and he could see what appeared to be a bridge area, it was more like a cockpit of a runabout then a starship. The slaves went inside and where obviously happy about something. Data's head started to spin as he was loosing footing. The older woman he had freed helped him sit down on one of the couches in the lounge. She seemed to ask if he was okay, and for the first time in his life, he didn't know. None of his self diagnostic programs where working. He had no clue as to what was happening. She seemed to bark and yell at the others who brought what seemed to be medical equipment. He being and Android would not need such things, he was puzzled at the action. The older lady helped him lay down as she took off his top. She looked at the injuries he had suffered with worry and slight surprise. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, as he was familiar with sleep, he knew what it felt like. She seemed to say something then pointed to herself “Shmi” then to the young girl “Jayed” , he understood the gesture and spoke a word, his name “Data” as he slipped into what he knew to be as sleep. What would follow would change the course of events. Time was derailed, all due to the wishes of an old dieing man, forty even years in the future. It was a new beginning, a new hope, a course that hopefully would lead to a better future. But nothing is given on a silver platter. One must earn true happiness.

I started this to improve my description and none dialogue scenes in a story. I have part of chapter 3 done. just got no where due to migraine. hoping to restart and finish it. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The events portrayed within this fiction do not represent events or people in real life. Any similarity is pure coincidence. I, the author, give anyone who wishes to host this story, advance permission to do so, as long as they are not making any profit on it. I the author, also acknowledge that outside my literal text, I do not own any of the respected properties which are represented within. They are copy written and trademarked by their respective owners. I thank them for creating such worlds, which not only give me great joy, but an opportunity to write and express myself.

Chapter I “Of wishes and dreams” A strange silence loomed across the transport ship, as it wormed through the higher plane of existence, known as hyperspace. The velocities which hyperspace allows, speeds the ship speeds across known space, are magnitudes greater then the fastest and best sub light drives would have taken centuries if not millennium, to cross a fraction of distances it traveled within seconds of elapsed time. Hyperspace is often described as a plane of existence, where one could observe the known universe, from the perspective of a tachyon. The discovery of hyperspace travel had revolutionized their galaxy, and inevitably transformed it into the melting pot it is today. This fact meant little to the occupants, hidden within the secret areas of the ship, who had little hope left to hold on to. The once free, now slaves, meat for sale to the highest bidder. Their ship was taking a course which would lead out of republic space. This was done in order to avoid the ban of slavery, within the galactic republic. A rational mind might assume that cultures, which had the ability to cross the known galaxy within months, would have grown beyond such practices. Such is life, cruel and unfair; the truth which every soul faces, hoping to overcome it. The fallen are many the successful few; Despite life's cruel and unfair nature, every once in a while, Life can also surprise you. In rare occasions, it can do something unexpected and wondrous, which affects more lives then quantifiable by the human brain. In some cultures, there’s a saying, “a dream is a wish your heart makes “. The slaves wished and dreamt, within the confines of their dark bleak cages. Desperate dreams, even knowing the futility of such dreams, a ray of hope still gleamed within their souls, despite their current situation. The only thing they had left to loose was hope, and that was a thing they clung on to. Their grip was slowly and surely, weakening. Reality settling in that no one knew of their peril, no one cared; no one had the power to save them. They where wrong, for the dying wishes of an old man, having seen and experienced , pains and horrors, unfathomable by most; suffering of the heart, the soul, and of the body, mere results of his tortured existence. Still he knew that his suffering, his pains, his worst nightmares were insignificant to his crimes. He had sought redemption, to make up for his deeds. He did it for love, for family, for everyone he had hurt. For this he was paying a steep price, his life, yet he felt no regrets or remorse, since he would regain his ultimate prize, his soul. Falling into a deep sleep, one he knew would be his last, he dreamt. Dreams of a better world, a different life, an existence, in which he had made the right choices. His family would be whole, and the atrocities he had committed in the misguided attempt to help the galaxy purged from the time line, a happy existence. This dream, a wish made within the last moments of his mortal existence. A wish so profound, so strong, so pure, that it traveled beyond time and space, transcending the mortal planes of existence. It was heard, by a being, which not only had the power, the will, but also the desire to grant it. Thus the path life had taken was changed, its destiny altered, its tracks derailed. The universe adapted, as it always does, proceeding to pave new tracks, on which to travel upon. The dawn of a new life, the dusk of the old. The slaver's foot steps echoed throughout the hull, as he made his rounds, inspecting the cargo holds. The lumbering thunder of his footsteps, terrified Jayde, unlike anything she had heard in her short life. For one so young, she had seen a lot of tragedy. Her parents’ death, being one of the bigger blows she had burdened. She held her knees tight, telling her self, that things will turn out better. At least she was not alone. An older woman with a baby, named Shimi, and her younger brother Keith, who had been with her when they were kidnapped, occupied their corner of the cell. Their cell being the cargo hold, as it was formally named. Keith, fortunately, was fast asleep, head resting on the knees of Shimi. In fact, if it was not for her, they would have been far worse off. Shimi was a kind and gentle soul; she acted as a surrogate mother, comforting them when needed. There where several others, scattered within the area, she could not make out, due to the lack of proper light, though she could definitely hear them. She could smell them as well. As the cargo hold lacked the proper accommodations, which even convicted criminals would have. It was hot, humid, and smelly. She was tired, uncomfortable and terrified of the life she is being forced live. “Are you okay dear?” Shimi whispered kindly to Jayde, obviously concerned. “No, not really,” thinking, “How can anyone be!” looking down at the ground “in this place?” “You have to have faith dear, I am sure there is a light at the end of this tunnel.” patting her child's head, “for his sake and yours.” “How can you be so sure? How can you not feel fear?” fearful of the future, Jayde demanded. “I do dear. . . The key is to not fight it, I acknowledge its presence then I let it pass.” she motioned to her child again, “he gives me courage, he is destined for more, I can feel it.” “Ah,” she shrugged nodding, in the hope that Shimi instincts where correct, “I wonder where we are headed?” She gazed at the walls in wonder. “Probably Kessel” Shimi, replied frankly, “it is a place for such people.” privily wishing that they make it safely. The ship started shaking, brining panic to the rest of the slaves, who until then where very quiet. Voices of panic and queries of what was going on echoed throughout the hold. “Calm down you pests,” a voice was heard through the door, “it will be calm again soon enough; we are passing through the Maw. Now shut your traps!” he banged at the door, leaving the now quiet, yet more terrified group. She heard a loud metallic noise, as if the door had been blown off its hinges. Panicky footsteps were heard as the crew scrambled to see what was wrong. She prayed, hoping it was not a collision with a real space object as this would certainly spell their doom. She whispered to her brother “are you okay squirt?” “I' fine, stop calling me that, I'm not a child anymore, I'm eight years old” retaliated her brother Keith. “Isn't that right aunt Shimi,” his eyes looking towards the women who's lap he had been sleeping in. Her child, a babe barely a few months old, was in his arms. “Of course, you are a buckling young man,” Shimi encouraged. Blaster fire was heard as yells of panic from the crew echoed the room. Jayde was also starting to panic. “Calm down young lady,” Shimi's voice tried to relax her “at best we get rescued, at worst; we end up the property of another slave trader. We are not worth anything when we are dead...” the voice of reason, logical yet terrifying. The yells got louder as the fight seemed to be getting closer to their holding cells. This caused Jayde, to huddle close to Shimi, cuddling her brother, her tears running. “You stronger then this Jayde MoonDreamer” Shimi encouraged. For the firs time in the few days which amounted to her capture, she felt comfort. A comfort she had only felt with her mother, who had died trying to stop the slavers form capturing her and her brother. The slave traders tended to go after the weak and it was generally unwise to walk alone, especially at the dark of night. These slavers where braver then most, however. A thud was heard against the door, as a small bulge extruded the shape of a humanoid. A series of blaster sounds echoed again across the room, as the door's impression was pock marked with the evidence of the blasts. Whoever it was was defiantly dead, and bracing the door, making indentations in it. The thud of the dead person, was heard as a thick viscose material came oozing under the door. “Eww” Shimi said as the blood, smelled an odd smell, “that is not human blood, everyone hold on to each other. I am sure we are going to meet our new masters” The door cracked open, as light shown through the once dark cell. The slaves could finally see one another. Jayde looked up to the door. There was a man, He had obvious blaster marks on his body and blood stains across him. Human mixed with other varieties not uncommon in this part of the galaxy. This aside, he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. It reminded her of home, when she would look out the balcony and pretend she was a bird, flying among the sky. The wind would rush across her once long hair, making it flap like a flag. The memory quickly vanished as the new comer, came over towards them, as they where closest to the door. “Don't hurt me” she begged as he grabbed her arm and unlocked her hands. “Thank you” He seemed to say you’re welcomed but she could not understand him. He pointed to the others and motioned to the key. She nodded and proceeded to unlock Shimi and her brother from the slaver collars. He then went outside and quickly disappeared. “I wonder who he is?” inquired Shimi, who was unlocking the other slaves while Jayde held her baby Anakin, “whoever he is he can't speak standard, or any other language I have heard of.” “We need to call him something.” Tim muttered as the man came back, he had a few blaster rifles and guns with him. Distributing them among the ones who where able to fight. “I know,” proclaimed Jayde “let's call him 'Blue Eyes'” “Good as name as any” remarked another slave with a blaster in his “I’m Lorien, let’s take over this tub and win our FREEDOM!” Cheers came from the rest of the slaves who where somewhat armed and ready to kick some tail. They ran out of the room, Blue eyes leading the way. They where headed to the control room. They encountered a few dead/dieing bodies along the way. Apparently the ship was lightly crewed as they never expected any resistance from the slaves nor an outsider. They entered the pilot's compartment, where a man, lay, dead. His hands fallen near what appeared to be a switch. “The force is with us, “exclaimed Lorien “he almost hit the self destruct” “They all appear to be dead” came the voice of another man in the back, “we will sweep the ship to make sure” Jayde looked concerned towards blue eyes, as he was loosening his footing. “Here let me help you,” said Shimi at their savvier, she helped him sit in the lounge, which was situated behind the pilot compartment. “Are you ok?” concern washing over her face as she noticed his bright sky blue eyes for the first time, a smile came on his face as he lay back closeting his eyes, resting. “Someone get a medical kit, he appears to be severely hurt” ordered Shimi “He is dead, more then likely, we need it more” complained the man. “He saved our lives you ungrateful,” yelled Jayde as her message got across. Shimi put 'Blue Eyes' in a laying position on the coach as she took off his top. She winced at the battle scarred body filled with blaster wounds and several cuts. “It looks bad, but “she noticed that the wounds where better off then they should be “it looks like their healing, rather fast too” “What is he?” asked Lorien “What ever he is He is 'Blue Eyes' our savior. He seemed in and out of consciousness as she asked talked to him. “Thank you for all your help, I'm Shimi, this is Jayde”, this seemed to stir something inside of Blue eyes as he seemed to get the gesture. He spoke a single word before he went unconscious. “Data?” asked Jayde “what is a data?” “His name?” propositioned Tim. “Thank you Data” echoed the voices of the once slaves, now free people. The journey is far from over, as wishes, even when granted, never come without a price or without effort. Nothing in life is ever simple or easy. Life will give you a break, a sign of hope. To the ones bold and courageous enough this is all they need to make their wishes and dreams come true. For the others. The eternal damnation of doubt, fear and loneliness. The ship, screaming through hyperspace, with the freed slaves, now its masters, journeyed to an undiscovered territory, as time and space began to rewrite itself.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>I would eat it, and no, that is not a euphemism.</div></div> *hands you a slice*</div></div> You're pimpin' out the pie!</div></div> *hands you a slice* only pimping if i am charging!

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>I would eat it, and no, that is not a euphemism.</div></div> *hands you a slice*

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'><p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Isn't there an atomic rocket website that delves extensively about it?</div></div> I like the site. It is very imformative. Yeah and it's run by a known Wongist. Down with it, I say!</div></div> Who?</div></div> I really like the site.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>A lot of the previous discussion regarding Borg adaptability had been hampered by blind devotion to certain ideas that are questionable at best. So, in this first of a series of threads, I think we should take a new look at supposedly "settled" discussions. Supposedly, the Borg can only adapt to energy (ray) weapons, whereas they are vulnerable to melee weapons. While this does seem to be true as far as drones are concerned, that reasoning should not be expanded to assume Borg ships are only capable of adapting to energy weapons. The reasoning given by Warsies, is convoluted at best. It seemed to consist of the idea that TLs are obviously thermal weapons, therefore rely on KE, and would pass right through a Borg Cube's defenses. Present your cases for and against, please.</div></div> the biggest problem is the giant leap in logic. In order for the drones to block out swords, bullets etc effectively would make them not able to walk or touch anything. Also, some guns and esp swords are not very consistent in the amount of ke they deliver per shot. Chemical explosives generally shoot the matter. Another point is that matter tends to be what delivers it. Solid matter, not particles on a beam. We have also never seen the same weapon, gun etc, used twice in the same episode on a borg, so we do not know if they had adapted or not. there is no proof they did nor is there any proof they did not.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Sure it's possible to have a really hard sci-fi setting. It probably means that everything has to happen inside one star system, and we don't get all the cool gizmos and gadets. In the end I much prefer the space opera settings to that of hard sci-fi, because hard sci-fi is as boring as watching grass grow.</div></div> not necessarily. A lot of scifi are limited to our solar system and have been operatic. It depends on the creativity.

Many novels,movies and tv shows, use words like, frequency, modulation, amplitude, polarity, phase and intensity when talking about weapons and defensive systems. I will make a few topics which will discuss each one of the above and how they effect the system. The terms can be used broadly as in none energy based weapons as the words can also be used for them. We will explore what we know, and we believe is, and together reevaluate our assumptions and form a better picture. To start the series, we shall start with frequency. Before we put up textbook definitions, please tell us what you think frequency is, how it would apply to different weapons, shields and defense mechanism. None combative examples like radio and music would also be valid for this example. Please feel free to give your honest opinion. I am no expert and do not claim to know everything. So when I give my opinion. If I am wrong I am wrong. That is the process in learning.

one time a local comic store had a free lan party. They had quake 3, it was fun. Anyhow. i played for like 5 minutes. I thought i sucked. I heard so many complaints about who killed me, omg who is killing me. damn you stop killing me. rofl.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>So what does Al-Sacheez mean then? Producer of Buttcheese?</div></div> no idea. I know it doesn't mean cherry chocolate cole train.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>Well Ali I like G00 except that Celestial Being acts like a bunch of hypocritical douches. I wanna see them get the Imperial Smackdown. Also, I'm kinda surprised because they got the one guy named Ali who's the Biggest Douche in the Universe.</div></div> they picked their names with a lot of symbolism. One of Ali's meanings is Lion. Azadistan means land of the free. etc

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>At this rate, assuming the proportions would be around the same, a (at this point theoretical) Abrams-verse Excelsior would at least be something in the neighborhood of twice the size of an Imperial Star Destroyer, and an Abrams-verse Galaxy/Sovereign would be solidly in Super Star Destroyer territory! Heck the Monsterprise is already the size of a Victory-class Star Destroyer!</div></div> I put up some size comparison here. http://s18.photobuck...ali-sama/scale/ It has size comparisons between isds, star trek ships and has new enterprise in 2 different sizes. the main reason the enterprise was enlarged was the shuttles Abrams used where too big for the smaller size enterprise, so they had to up the scale. i believe the actual scale will be in the 712 meters so it isn't isd size. But i can be wrong.

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>I enjoyed the movie, and it's the best thing I've seen this year by far. It's wasn't perfect, of course, but the good stuff blotted out the bad stuff to the point where pointing out the bad feels like nitpicking. The visuals were brilliant. I loved the ship designs, and pretty much everything there was when it came to VFX. The new warp jump was way better then the previous one, the new phaser effects were better, Vulcan collapsing was beautiful, etc. What stuck out the most was the scene where a hole blasted in the side of the Kelvin and a crewman gets blown out into space, the way the sound suddenly disappears when the hapless individual crosses the threshold between ship and space is breathtaking. It set the tone for the entire movie. The characters were also good. They were all different and interesting in their own way, though I say that as someone who's only watched a few episodes of TOS. The highlights were Kirk and Spock (and naturally the interactions between the two), as well as McCoy. The rest weren’t fleshed out all that much, which is understandable given the time restrictions, but they all had their own defining moments. The plot... well the plot is the weakpoint, I think. There are some good points, of course, like seeing Vulcan getting sucked into a black hole. It's one of those things you just don't expect the writers to do. Overall, though, the plot was something of a mess. It did manage to invoke a sense of suspense, and it did set up the new timeline in a good way, so it's still okay, I guess. The only scenes I actually disliked were the ones where Scotty is stuck in the water tubes, the one where Kirk is being chased by a snow monster and the one where Kirk grows large hands. They had no impact on the story, weren’t funny, and were too close to Star Wars, IMO.</div></div> well, it is a circle. Lucas was influenced by star trek, and now star trek is influenced by star wars. I for one support a new ds9 with cleaner story line_^-

<p class='citation'>Quote</p><div class="blockquote"><div class='quote'>I've never been much into Gundam.</div></div> you may like it. it is on youtube.